My baby is dead.
I am a bereaved mother.
Trauma changed my brain.
I ask for help and choose healing.
I have suffered the anguish of grief.
I live with empathy and compassion.
I lost myself and my beliefs.
I discovered a more authentic me.
Friends disappeared and relationships gone.
Deep connections found amongst the commonalities in community.
I have triggers and suffer PTSD.
The helpline and shit club are there for me.
Sometimes I push it down.
But it asks to be let out.
Grief is love without a place to go.
So I find somewhere to put it.
Energy is not created or destroyed
Only transferred or transformed.
Where is your energy my baby?
I want to connect with you. To love you.
I look for you in the small ways.
I connect with you in the subtle ways.
I am always longing to give you so much more.
I will never be satisfied until I can kiss you, hold you.
I learn to live one day at a time with this void.
As long as I’m living
My baby you’ll be.
I love you Leia.
Photo credit: Melanie Pastuck
NILMDTS photographer
Stephanie Aitken